Gloomy Sunday
by Tomo Potter
Summary: After yet another argument Harry has had it with Draco, with life, with everything. Slash HPDM, suicide, character death.


A/N: I'm in a pretty bad place right now. Stuff's been happening, which is essentially good... in an extremely bad way. The long and short of it being that I am so far beyond broke it's not funny. So heyy, if you happen to have any little jobs that need doing, let me know!! -bats eyelashes hopefully-

Anyway, you know the deal. Feeling bad equals angsty fic. In advance though, I would just like to say that despite the nature of this fic, I am not suicidal. I've been there before, I know how it feels, but I'm not there now, just really really down.

Warning: Slash, angst, character death, suicide. This is not going to be pretty.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. If I did, my money problems would be OVER and I wouldn't be sitting here alone in angsty eyeliner, because I'd be too busy being rich. Also, the name and concept of this fic come from the song Gloomy Sunday by Billie Holiday, which is one of the saddest things I have ever heard, and never fails to make me feel better. Though tbh, I prefer the unofficial cover by Emilie Autumn. Mostly because I'm biased due to EA being my favourite singer ever. :P

**Gloomy Sunday**

"I'M NOT SHOUTING AT YOU!"

"Oh really? Then WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"

"Just get out."

"What? Are _you _kicking_ me _out?"

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!"

"Fine! Fuck you!"

"Maybe if you were better at that, we wouldn't be here!"

"WHAT! Oh, you're fucking dead, Malfoy, you prissy son of a bitch. You're just like your father."

"Get.Out."

SLAM.

A very angry, very upset with himself Harry Potter stormed out of the Room of Requirement, angry tears sliding down his face, as he walked determinedly to the Astronomy Tower. He needed fresh air, and space from his boyfriend... not that Draco could rightly be called that anymore. All they had done for months was argue. There seemed to be no respite. All of the soft kisses from the beginning, the gentle caresses, the whispered promises of love, these had been replaced by insults, shouting, and the occasional slap. Harry stomped up the first few stairs, before his determination just disappeared, and by the end of the staircase, he was pretty much dragging himself through the grief, slumping on the floor of the Astronomy tower when he at last reached it. Sunday. It was Sunday morning now, as he leaned his head against the wall, looking up at the stars. They were so big, so free, so happy. Harry wished he were a star, stars didn't have jerk boyfriends, didn't have to worry about defeating Voldemort, didn't have to care about their recently deceased godfathers. Stars just twinkled happily. He wanted to twinkle.

Slowly, Harry dragged himself back to his feet and walked over to the edge of the roof, peering over it. Such a long way... he could only imagine what it would feel like; the wind in his hair, tears running up his cheeks, just falling and falling, and then flying, never having to worry again, because he was gone. Out of this hell, back with Sirius. That would be nice.

He smiled sadly, tears coursing freely now. He had only come up here for a breath, some distance, but now the purpose seemed clear. He would fall and fall and fall, feel free, and his life would be over. Let others deal with it. He was through with life and everything that came with it. Slowly, carefully, Harry climbed up on the thick palisades, laughing aloud at how cautious he was being, even now, when he intended to die.

As he stood, he imagined his funeral. Lots of tears, lots of speeches from people he had never even met. Flowers and candles and prayers and things Harry never had, and never would care about. The Dursleys would probably have a party. He laughed aloud again at this thought, and wondered briefly if he had gone mad. Laughing again at that thought, he bent his knees, and sprung lightly off the wall. He seemed to hover for a second, and then all was falling.

000

"What... what's happened?" Draco Malfoy asked the next morning, of the large crowd gathered around the bottom of the Astronomy tower. He pushed himself past a couple of fourth-years in tears, holding each other, and almost stepped straight into...

The body of Harry Potter, almost unrecognisable in a bloody mess on the ground. Draco seemed to shake for a second, every fibre of him trembling with grief, and then he howled, a sound of such agony that everything in the grounds seemed to go deathly quiet. And then he collapsed on his dead lover, sobbing hard.

Not many people had known of their relationship, so his response came as a bit of a general shock. Nobody commented though, as they watched Draco Malfoy sobbing loudly onto the bloody, mangled chest of his supposed rival, the once laughing green eyes closed and mooshed, flecked with his own blood.


End file.
